


Cautionary Words

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam wants what he can't have</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wolfram & Hart was a typical high-powered law firm: the clients were rich, fairly high-profile, and incredibly spoiled, the attorneys were workaholics that lived for the long hours their job demanded of them, and the interns were all about two heartbeats away from collapse beneath the staggering workload that was piled on their shoulders. It was a grueling arena in which only the brightest and most talented rose to the top, but for those few that managed to scramble up the ladder, the rewards were worth every lie they told or back they stabbed. Along with the prestige of working for one of the oldest firms in Los Angeles, a position at Wolfram & Hart brought instant respect - everybody from busboys to CEOs knew who the power players were, and they wanted for nothing. And then there were the perks that the firm gave its most valued employees - apartments, cars, luxury vacations and expense accounts to the finest stores were just the tip of the iceberg.  
  
Nobody knew any of this better than Liam Jacobs. At twenty-seven, he was one of the brightest of the firm's rising stars, second only to Lindsey McDonald. But while Lindsey was already well on his way to becoming LA's premier criminal defense attorney, Liam was being groomed for another job entirely. It was no secret in the office that the young executive was next in line for the CEO's position, and nobody would've denied that he'd earned it. He might not be an attorney, but his track record in business was nothing to scoff at. After graduating at the top of his class from USC, Liam had promptly set out to make a name for himself by turning down all management offers and setting his sights on a little-known company that made replicas of swords and other weapons. He'd scraped up the cash to buy it, whipped the few employees into shape, and within three years, Angel's Arms had become the top supplier of prop and replica swords. When they'd garnered the exclusive contracts for the last six Hollywood blockbusters, they'd drawn the attention of Wolfram & Hart's executive talent scout. Lilah was still patting herself on the back for getting him to sign on with the firm, and after Liam cut a swath through a good deal of middle management and turned both the Investment and Marketing departments on their heads, the seventy-five percent bump in productivity he'd been responsible for had garnered both Lilah and Liam a hefty raise.  
  
Yes, Liam was definitely a valued employee, and as such, he'd been given every last perk Wolfram & Hart could think of - a penthouse apartment that had been carefully and expensively decorated to suit his very exacting tastes, three sleek sports cars along with the unlimited use of the firm's limo service, a nearly limitless expense account that kept him sharply dressed in Armani, Prada, and Hugo Boss, and LA's most notorious male escort for his own exclusive use. By all rights, he should've been one extraordinarily happy young man.  
  
But for all the things that his newfound money and fame had bought him, it couldn't give him the one thing he was only now starting to realize he wanted. It couldn't give him the heart of a man. Spike slept in his bed, ate at his table, dressed in the clothes that he'd carefully chosen to show off his beautiful body, and even engaged him in some of the most interesting and infuriating conversations he'd ever had, but Liam could never really forget that it was all because he wanted Spike, and Wolfram & Hart wanted to keep its future CEO happy.   
  
So he went home every night to the hottest man he'd ever seen, where his every desire was fulfilled, his every whim indulged, except for one- Spike would never top him. He'd asked once, early on, and the terse reply he'd received had made it clear that it was a hard limit. Spike would suck him and beg for Liam to fuck him using graphic language that would've given a corpse a hard on, he'd let Liam tie him up and whip him, take him out to parties and show him off like a prize dog, anything else he wanted except that. Liam had seen him in a thousand different moods, fucked him in dozens of positions and hundreds of circumstances, watched him come over and over again, but he'd never felt so much as a single finger inside himself.  
  
It had all come to a head last night. Liam knew it was his fault - he never should've pushed for what he knew Spike didn't want, but after spending the evening with Wesley and Lindsey, he hadn't been able to stop himself. They'd had dinner at one of the city's best Italian restaurants, and somewhere in between the two bottles of chianti they'd gone through and the tiramisu they hadn't quite managed to finish, Liam's control had snapped. He'd watched Lindsey teasing Wesley about how the other man liked his pasta perfectly al dente and seen Wes' pleased smile at how well his lover knew him, and he'd realized that he wanted that for himself.  
  
He wanted more than just the pretense that Spike gave him - he wanted a real relationship, someone he could come home to that was there for more than just what he could give them, someone that wanted him every bit as much as he wanted them. Of course, he didn't want it with just anyone, and that was the problem. If all he'd wanted was a relationship, he could've found that with fairly little effort. He wanted it with  _Spike_ , and while he didn't doubt that Spike wanted him, he knew that that that was his job - to want him, and make him believe it. His very livelihood depended on keeping Liam happy, both in bed and out, and Spike was a master at it. The illusion he'd woven was so close to real that Liam had forgotten that it wasn't as real for Spike as it was for him. He'd fallen in love with a facade, and now that it was crumbling all around him, he had to wonder if he'd ever known the real Spike, or if everything about him had been carefully crafted to give Liam what he wanted.  
  
Thanks to his rising jealousy over Wesley and Lindsey's happiness, he'd had a few too many drinks, and it had made him careless when they got home. Despite promising himself that he wouldn't, Liam hadn't been able to resist pushing for what he really wanted, so he shouldn't have been surprised that Spike lashed out in return. If he hadn't been quite so drunk, or if he'd been just a little less preoccupied with his friend's relationship, he might have been able to let it go when Spike first snapped at him to stop, but instead he pressed harder, and they ended up getting into their first real fight. They'd both said more than a few things they probably shouldn't have, but when Spike yelled, “I don't fuck  _clients_ , mate!”, Liam walked out. He hadn't been able to stay, hadn't wanted Spike to see how much those words had hurt, the reminder that he was nothing more than a paycheck to him, so he left and headed for the closest bar, where he'd gotten as drunk as possible before he got kicked out. He hadn't been able to even think of going back to the apartment, so he had the bartender call a taxi service for him, and that was how he ended up spending two days getting thoroughly wasted in one of Los Angeles' best hotels.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Sunday morning before he finally sobered up enough to realize exactly what he'd done. He called Wesley, who spent ten minutes cursing him out in between demands to know what had happened, got his promise to call Spike and let him know he was okay, then hung up mid-sentence and plodded into the bathroom. One of the perks to luxury hotels and expense accounts, besides the refillable minibar, was the showers. Liam spent a long while just standing under the spray, hot water pouring over him, and when he washed up and emerged, he felt halfway human once more.  
  
He was almost tempted to spend another few days hiding out in the hotel suite and licking his wounds, but after calling down for breakfast, he found himself dressing and going down to check out. As tempting as it was to put it off, he'd have to deal with what had happened, and it was better to just get it over with. Losing Spike was going to hurt however it happened - assuming he was even there when he got home, that was. The kind of fight they'd had was the end of things, especially when it was clear that nothing was going to change. And he wanted it to change, Liam could admit that now.  
  
Liam walked through the door to find the blond sitting in the living room, proving once again that he'd never be able to predict anything when it came to Spike. He stared at him for a minute, then swallowed and took a step forward as Spike stood up and started towards him. One finger pressed against his lips, stopping whatever apologies or excuses he might've offered, and then Spike was drawing him down for a kiss. Liam let his stained suit jacket slide to the floor as he wrapped his arms around Spike and did his best to let the careful play of tongues speak for him.  
  
Whatever Spike heard in the kiss, he must have liked it, because he hooked his fingers in Liam's belt loops and began backing away, pulling him towards the bedroom as he went. He would've followed anywhere Spike asked, but being led was a new experience - Spike had attacked him before, tearing at clothes in eagerness, but he'd never done this, never taken the lead so clearly, and Liam found himself spellbound by the calm control he displayed. This was new, being the one carefully undressed and gently pressed back on the bed while Spike set about learning him all over again with hands and mouth.  
  
Liam moaned and whined, even whimpered when Spike forced him to wait - he didn't want to wait, he wanted him now! But he was helpless to do anything except writhe under talented hands and a mouth that took a slow, meandering path down before it moved back up, teasing and taunting as it drew him ever higher. He was nearly frantic with it when Spike nudged his legs farther open and slid his hand down between them. The first slow slide of fingers inside him was nearly his undoing, the careful press that opened him up enough to leave him hard and dripping, so eager and needy that he would have been embarrassed if he'd been able to think coherently beyond the gasping word, "More!"  
  
The soft smile he received in reply cracked his heart wide open, but it was the slow push inside that made him sob into Spike's mouth. Spike fucked him with long, smooth strokes, rocking against him like they had all the time in the world - no, not fucked. This wasn't fucking. He'd fucked Spike before, but he'd never seen him like this, blue eyes so dark they were almost black, sharp elfin features somehow softened with an emotion he was afraid to name...   
  
And that was when it hit him. This wasn't Spike fucking him - this was Spike making love to him. This was Spike loving him, the way he'd wanted him to for longer than he wanted to think about. The realization sent him spinning out of control, and his climax was almost forgotten in the wave of emotion that tore the wordless cries of pleasure and love from his lips. Spike drank his sounds in, swallowing them like he needed them to exist, before he gave them all back to him on a low groan as he came in long spurts inside him, silken heat that left him wet and wide open, but Liam didn't care, and when Spike moved as though to leave, he shook his head. "Please... not yet..." He couldn't lose this now, not when he'd waited so long for it.  
  
Spike hesitated, then nodded. "Not leavin'," he promised, then kissed him. They lay quietly, kissing and caressing each other, until Liam faded off to sleep, the emotional surges of the past few days taking their toll on his overtaxed and exhausted body.  
  
When he woke up and found the sheets cold and the room empty, he remembered again that there were still a few things that Wolfram & Hart's money couldn't buy, still some injuries that their power couldn't protect him from. He looked at the note on the pillow beside him and didn't have to read it to know what it said. As he stretched a shaking hand out to pick up the paper with Spike's careless scrawl on it, Liam remembered what his mother always used to say when he'd talk about his grandiose dreams:  _Be careful what you wish for, lad. You just might get it, and then what will you do?_


	3. Chapter 3

Harmony had always considered herself lucky. She had a nice apartment, a hot car, all the designer clothes she could wear, incredible friends, and she rarely had trouble getting whatever guy she had her eye on to notice her when she went out. And she had a great job with an amazing boss that made the first three things possible. Or at least, she had a job and a boss. Great and amazing had pretty much gone out the window about a month ago.  
  
It wasn't like Mr Jacobs had turned into a tyrant or anything; he wasn't screaming at her, making her life hell, or chasing her around the desk, but sometimes Harmony thought she wished he would. At least then she'd have something concrete to complain about, something she could put her finger on as being different. But there was none of that, just Mr Jacobs walking around like something had drained the life out of him and left a dried-up shell behind and he hadn't really figured out how to operate the shell yet. And amazingly enough, most people didn't seem to notice, but Harmony did.  
  
She knew it had something to do with Spike, with how he'd practically vanished overnight, but one look at Mr Jacobs' face when she asked about him was enough to convince her never to do it again. He hadn't said a word, just stared at her for a long time, and it wasn't until she was back at her own desk trying to control her shaking hands long enough to type that Harmony realized what had left her so unsettled. It was his eyes. The dark gaze had been so  _sad_ , like all the pain and agony that there was in the world had been crammed into one man and he couldn't hold it all. She'd seen that look before, in the painted eyes of the Jesus that hung on the cross in her grandmother's church, and it never failed to give her goosebumps.  
  
The intercom broke into her thoughts with a beep. "Harmony?"  
  
"Yes, Mr Jacobs?"  
  
"Did Wes send any files over for me?" That was another new thing - the files. Mr Wyndham-Pryce had started bringing them by a few weeks ago, first big thick ones that he walked into Mr Jacobs' office with, then thinner ones that he dropped off at Harmony's desk, and lately, very thin ones that arrived by interoffice mail more often than not. She wondered what would happen when those stopped showing up.  
  
"Sorry, doesn't look like there's anything today."  
  
There was silence for a few seconds and then he said quietly, "Okay. Thanks, Harmony."  
  
Liam released the intercom and sat back in his chair with a sigh. There hadn't been any new files for three days, no new suggestions of where Spike might be or how they could go about finding him. It had been an exhausting month. He'd nearly depleted his resources running down every lead he could think of, including a few very unsavory ones that Lindsey had managed to dig up for him, but he found himself stonewalled at every turn. It was as though Spike had never existed, and if it hadn't been for Wesley and Lindsey, Liam might have thought he'd made him up in the first place.  
  
Spike seemed to have walked out of his apartment that night and dropped right off the face of the earth. And while Liam wanted to get him back, he wanted even more to know that he was safe. They'd never talked about where he'd lived before he moved in or how he'd come to be an escort, but Liam was pretty sure it wasn't for the love of sex. And in the weeks of looking for him, he'd learned more than he ever wanted to know about what drove people to make those kind of decisions. The thought of Spike selling himself because he'd been some runaway kid, abused and unwanted, tied his stomach up in knots.  
  
By this point, Liam knew he'd give anything to be sure that Spike had a place to go and someone to take care of him, even if he wouldn't let that someone be Liam anymore. Lately Wes had been combing through police reports and morgue records, and they'd gone to look at more than one John Doe to make sure he wasn't Spike. They never had been, so there had been that small comfort, at any rate. But there was still no word from or trace of Spike, and he'd left everything at Liam's, which only made Liam worry more. If he'd taken his cell, Liam could've called and left a message begging to hear from him. If he'd taken his watch or any of the other gifts Liam had given him, he'd have been able to pawn them for money. But instead, he'd disappeared with just the clothes on his back.  
  
One nightmare scenario after another had come up over the last month, thoughts of Spike broke and alone and hurting, without anyone there to help him or take care of him. Worry over Spike was slowly taking over his life, driving thoughts of work and friends and any other lover out until there was just memory and the overwhelming need to know that his former lover was all right. Except that he hadn't really been his lover, had he? They hadn't met at work, like Wesley and Lindsey, or bumped into each other at a club somewhere and struck up a conversation, like Fred and Gunn. No, he'd bought Spike - or rather, had him bought for him, traded money for great sex and the illusion of a relationship that he'd somehow forgotten wasn't completely real. Even now, he seemed to be having trouble understanding it, what with his concern about Spike, who was probably laughing over Liam's gullibility, telling whoever he was servicing now about Wolfram & Hart's golden boy and the pathetic way he'd fallen in love with an escort.  
  
Liam glanced at the most recent folder, the one that had contained a mention of a bleached John Doe, found in an alley near West Hollywood, and hoped Spike  _was_  somewhere laughing at him. At least then he could stop looking and quit fearing that the next folder would have Spike's picture in it.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike didn't bother to look away from the TV when he heard the door open. He knew who it would be - only one person ever came into his room without knocking, and he wasn't stupid enough to try to keep her out. Closing his eyes, he started counting, and before he reached five, there was a small body settling next to him on the couch and the heady scent of apples and cinnamon surrounding him. It was a comforting smell, one that carried memories of an easier time, before expensive contracts and careful language had turned his life upside down, before he'd gotten lost in sex and cigarettes. Before Spike.  
  
She didn't say anything right away, just leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. It was comfortable, like so many other nights they'd spend curled up together, and Spike let himself fall into the peaceful comfort she offered, turning into her and lacing his fingers through hers. She squeezed him gently, then said, "He called again today."  
  
His head snapped up. "Did you -?"  
  
"Of course not. You know I'm not gonna sell you out like that." And he did; it was why he'd come back here after he left Liam. Granted, a professional dungeon might not be most people's idea of a cozy retreat, but it was the closest thing he had to a home. He didn't count the penthouse he'd spent the last two years in - that was Liam's, just like the clothes and cars and everything else.  
  
He heard the faint creak of leather as Buffy shifted, snuggling up close to him. "You know, you're gonna have to tell me about it sometime," she pointed out. "I can't put him off forever, and we really can't afford to alienate Wolfram & Hart."  
  
It was as close as she would come to saying that she was worried about him. Spike knew her well enough to read between the lines. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "I can leave if you want," he offered.  
  
"No way. You think I'm gonna let you walk away now? Fat chance, mister." She nudged him with her shoulder. "But I can tell the big guys you're gone when they come looking."  
  
And they would. Spike was under no illusion about that. Right now it was just Liam, but soon enough it would be someone else - either a senior partner or someone speaking for them, and they weren't the kind of people that liked hearing 'no'. He didn't think they'd hurt Buffy or anything like that, but they could definitely make life harder for her. "No, they'll just put surveillance on the place. Might as well admit it an' tell 'em you'll pass the message on to me."  
  
He knew better than to think they wouldn't know where he was. While Spike didn't think Liam knew where he'd been when he was hired, the senior partners did. They'd been the ones to scope him out and send their boy to make the offer in the first place. He wasn't sure why they were holding back now, unless they were hoping Liam would give up and move on. Maybe they thought the toy they'd bought him had ended up costing more than he was worth?  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I just don't get it," she said. "You've got a rich, good-looking guy who seems to be turning LA upside down looking for you, and you're hiding out here. I mean, your old room's always yours whenever you want it, you know that. But why won't you talk to him? Or just tell the jerk off if he's that bad."  
  
"He's not that bad," Spike muttered. He didn't dare tell Buffy the truth, that he'd gone and done the one thing Buffy had always told him not to - he'd fallen head over heels for a client, bought into the whole Pretty Woman myth, like he could actually be the guy's boyfriend instead of just a pretty toy that was part of his benefits package.   
  
She snorted. "Baby, you came in here looking like it was Riley, Part Two. That's pretty bad. If he hurt you like that, then -"  
  
"He didn't," he interrupted. When Buffy shot him a skeptical look, he shook his head and insisted, "Really, it's not like that."  
  
"Yeah, right. That's why you've hardly left your room in weeks," she pointed out. "Cause you're  _so_  okay with everything, here."  
  
He had no argument for that, so he just hugged her again and kissed the top of her head. "I'll be all right," he told her, and he knew he would be. He'd survived worse than this, much worse, and he'd get past this, too.   
  
Buffy might think it was Riley all over again, but Spike knew better. Liam was nothing like Riley, not where it counted. And he hadn't hurt Spike like Riley had; Spike had left before he could, walked away from Liam to protect himself, even if he knew deep down that it was too late for that. Somehow or other the bloody executive had slipped past his vigilance and wormed his way into his heart, and now Spike had no idea how to get him out.


End file.
